Chasing the Sun (A Rebound Novella Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter Six

“Did you water my plants?”

“Yes.”

“Did you lock up when you left?”

“Yes.” That yes came out a little more annoyed than the first. “Ian, I’m not an idiot. I can handle a few tasks…By the way your plant in the hall died. Oh, and I took a pair of your boxers.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well, my thong was wet and I didn’t feel like going commando.”

Ian sighed. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

He smiled to himself. He missed that whack job.

“So you sound like you’re doing great and you’re new friend sounds awesome.”

“Why did you say friend like that? Seriously Mads, we’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh. It’s okay to get ya some.”

“I know that. But she’s not a hook up type of girl. I like her. She’s like you, except normal.”

“Well, that sounds boring as shit.”

He laughed and decided to drop it. “Mads, you owe me a plant…And water it this time.”

“Oookay. Dude you’re kind of being a bitch about all this greenery.”

“And for a self-proclaimed tree hugger you sure have a way with living things.”

“Hey! I didn’t kill your fish. He totally committed suicide. Seriously, he slit his fins…it was really sad.”

“I miss you, you fruit cake.”

“I miss you too, Ian. And hey, have fun down there…and please, for the love of God, let someone play with your pickle.”

“Um, I’ll work on that. I’m going out tonight, so I’ll make sure to let it hang out of my zipper.

“Hmm, 3-D advertising. I like it.”

“Bye, Mads.”

“Bye-bye, pumpkin.”

Ian waved at Trey as he took his usual perch in front of the bar. She brought him a beer and chatted as long as she could before being called away.

“Sorry I’ve been neglecting you. It’s been crazy tonight. Rory always brings in a big crowd. Your friend still coming?” she asked, shaking a drink vigorously then pouring the mixture into four shot glasses.

“You haven’t neglected me, and yes, he was just finishing up with bath time.”
 

“Helping with bath. I like him already.”
 

His buddy Lucas arrived when Ian was on his second pint. They did the bro-hug and Lucas ordered a boilermaker so he could catch up. Ian hadn’t seen him in over five years but remembered their times in college fondly. Like the time they had to stay up all night studying for their trig final—each one armed with a water gun prepared to squirt the other if their eyelids started to droop. At some point in the night, soaking wet, exhaustion had disarmed them both. Or the time they threw a party in their apartment pool. Yes,
in
their pool. There was no water but they made everyone wear their bathing suits. The slip and slide had been a bad idea…ten stitches later. That place was a dump but held even more great memories, most of which involved alcohol and eviction warnings.

Lucas was a party animal back in the day, but time and family had seemed to mellow him out. They still threw down. There were just no beer bongs or tequila shots involved. No, they partied like grown-ups. Which meant by ten, Lucas was yawning.

“Sorry, man. I can’t hang like I used to.”

“No worries. I never stay out very late these days.”

“Man, it was good to see you, Ian. It’s been way too long.”

“I know. Funny how years pass by without you even realizing it. Life happens.”

“You have to come over and meet the kids. Viv is dying to see you, too.” Ian loved Lucas’s wife Vivian. They all met in college. She was one of the coolest women he knew.

“I would love that. Kiss Viv for me…with tongue.”

Lucas laughed. “Will do. I almost don’t want her to see you. She’ll make me join a gym. Really, it’s not fair.”

“Whatever, dude. You look just fine.” It was true. He had a few more inches in the belly and a little salt in the hair. Other than that he looked the same.
 

“Said the male model. Were you this good looking in college? I thought you would have gotten laid a lot more if you were,” Lucas teased.

“It was good to see you, brother.” Ian grinned and they shook hands one last time.
 

As Lucas was leaving, he turned and said that he’d call him soon. Ian hadn’t realized how much he needed some male bonding time. Trey was really cool, but sometimes he just needed
 
to hang with another guy.
 

“Hey, when is the music going to start?” Ian asked when Trey dropped off another beer.

“Setting up now. You want anything to eat, handsome?” She smiled and ruffled his hair. He grabbed the towel that was over her shoulder, and as she leaned to grab it, he kissed her on the nose.

“Hey! No touching the help, asshole.” She was trying to sound stern, but she was smiling too big to pull it off. She swiped back her towel and shook her head, mumbling as she walked away. He was glad she was wearing her extra short shorts tonight.
 

“Stop looking at my ass, Ian!”
 

Busted.

He grinned and sipped his frothy beer when the mic buzzed, turning his attention to the small stage on the other side of the bar.
 

Finally, some music.

He was starting to get his own case of the yawns, but didn’t want to go home this early. It was Saturday night.

There still weren’t any drums set up or even a guitar. What kind of band was this? Finally a bald guy with a silver goatee came up with an acoustic guitar. Ian was about to head out when another person walked out into the stage lights. She wore a tight white tank top and a long flowing skirt, the kind Maddie would wear. She looked barefoot, but he couldn’t tell from where he was sitting. He
could
tell that her hair was glowing under the lights, copper and fire swirling together in a mass of lose curls. She sat down on a tall stool and the tips of her feet touched the floor. She was shod with thin sandals. Her toes were painted bright orange.
 

Ian must have been gawping because he didn’t see Trey approach nor did he hear her a-hem several times.
 

He finally came to when she said, “Another one bites the dust.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

She sighed. “Oh nothing, you just have that look guys get when they first see Rory. She puts men under a spell.” She waggled her fingers. Her voice was teasing, but her eyes weren’t completely with the program.

“Nah, nothing like that. I was just curious is all.”

“Okay, if you say so.” She rolled her eyes and walked off.

What was that about? Maybe they didn’t get along or something. He didn’t think too hard on it. Especially when the woman on stage put her mouth against the microphone.
 

“Hey, ya’ll. I’m Aurora Monroe and this talented guy beside me is Dudley. Thanks for coming out tonight.” Hoots, claps and whistles. “This first tune is a little something I wrote after a particularly gnarly heartbreak.” Her voice made his pants tighten. If a bedroom voice had a bedroom voice, this would be it. And that was her just speaking; when she hit the first set of notes he thought he was going to lose his load right there on his bar stool.
 

Sultry and smoke.
 

Soul and sex.
 

He was under her spell all right…The notes became liquid smoke drifting lazily over the crowd. Only to stop above him—the foggy tendrils seeping into his pants. As far as he was concerned she was singing to him about love and loss. Her hands entwined around the mic stand, eyes closed. He wanted to be that mic and stand so bad he ached. To have her hands wrapped around him, her full lips paying homage to his cock.

Holy fucking shit.

 
There was a slight sway in her shoulders as she sang. And as the last note of the song hung in the air you could hear a pin drop. She made him feel things, things he hadn’t felt in months. He had to meet her, and he knew just the person to make the introductions.

Chapter Seven

Ian wasn’t surprised when his museum project was running behind and was going to be over the proposed budget. In the ten plus years he’d been an architect he’d grown accustomed to this fact and also cultivated a go with the flow attitude. The reality was it happened nine times out of ten. The sun was hot on his back, the large un-rolled CAD drawings spread in front of the him. He wiped his hand across his head and prayed they could continue this back and forth in the air-conditioned trailer adjacent to the site. His prayers where not answered, the foreman seemingly unaffected by the scorching heat.
 

He tried to focus on the conversation—water features and shallow pools throughout the sculpture gardens—but all he could think about was the sweat running down his back. Some beads breaking the barrier of his boxers. When the horse was dead and beaten, he rolled up his drawings and bid them sayonara. He had to get back to his computer to update the design, get the approvals from the investors, again, then work on his other projects he was juggling. Even though it was trying, even annoying at times, there’s nothing he would rather do with his life. The sun flooded his eyes as he gazed at the iron frame on the back portion of the building. It took him back.

It was his sixth birthday. There was a present wrapped in He-Man wrapping paper. It was so big his mom had to set it in the corner between a large potted fern and the couch. His parents loudly harmonized “Happy Birthday,” much to his embarrassment, then he ate his cake like an anaconda devouring its prey. When he was finally given the go ahead, he pounced on the gift and tore into the paper with lightning speed. Inside was an erector set with over a thousand pieces. Ian stared, mouth open and eyes wide. That summer, while his buddies were covered in dirt and sweat, he remained pale and clean.
 

Stack, build, repeat. Stack, build, repeat.
 

Once that routine had been exhausted he started to draw his own designs. A love for architecture developed before he’d even heard of the word and deepened well after.

When other guys were playing sports he was at the drafting table, sketching models of florentine buildings or making 3D models of modern homesteads.
 

Lucky for him it was the mid-nineties and teenage girls found quiet artistic types intriguing…

He leaned against his locker—wavy dark hair touching his shoulders
,
Tripping Daisy concert tee, thin leather strap around his neck…charcoal on his face. Caroline Miller ran her finger across her tongue seductively and rubbed his cheek. The ‘O’ in the word
love
across her shirt looked more like an ellipse. There was a tug of war between the massive globes no sixteen year old girl should possess.
 

That led to thirty minutes of frenetic groping in an empty classroom. Two weeks later he would lose his virginity to her on top of the playground set at Wilburn Elementary School behind his house. Midnight lent the darkness and privacy…You never forget your first. There are no words that can describe the feeling that first time. The strange cold sensation of the condom…the warm, tight wetness of a girl.

Ahhhh Caroline.

 
He’d pictured it in his mind a million times while rubbing himself off—coming into a tube sock, silent shudders wracking his body. When he pushed inside Caroline for the first time he knew nothing would be better than that, that sex was the ultimate of ultimates and he would spend his life wrapped in that soft, moist skin. He’d imagined that must be what a heroin addict thought the first time they used.
 

Quiet artistic guys attracted girls, but if you were in a band, the clothes came off after the first chord was played.

That’s why his second favorite birthday present was the guitar he received on his fourth birthday. He’d wanted an electronic axe. He imagined the Sex Pistols’ riffs screaming from his amp, sweat pouring down his face. But his dad, a former pot enthusiast and Simon and Garfunkel groupie, thought an acoustic guitar would be more appropriate.
 

Two summers mowing lawns and every cent of money that came in a Hallmark card later, he’d saved enough money for a Fender Strat—just in time to play lead guitar for Anarchy Malarkey, the band he and his buddies formed.
 

Band was a loose term. Most of the time it just meant butchering Led Zepplin songs in Chuck Wallace’s garage. Sure, they had their crew of groupies. It got him a lot of under the shirt action, and with Lucy Barnes a lot more. She was the first girl he’d “loved.” Back then if a girl gave a blow job without being asked, she was the love of your life. But love gave way to college and other plans.
 

Lucy…

When he saw her at his high school reunion it was like walking into a memory or a dreamscape. Lucy was still fair of face, but rounder of figure. The same soft, dark tendrils framing her alabaster cheeks. She was accompanied by her husband of ten years, three kids left at home. For a brief minute he imagined himself on her arm, imagined that those were his kids at home and that her curves were his to touch, but that thought was fleeting…She looked happy.

 
He’d seen Caroline at the reunion as well. She looked the same as she had all those years ago. The laugh lines were the only demarcation that time had indeed passed. She was twice divorced. She peppered him with the gory details, attempting to cover her obvious pain with sarcastic quips, all the while getting increasingly drunk as she tried to slip her hotel key card into his pocket…his front pocket. He politely declined and had the feeling he’d dodged a bullet when their tryst came to an end.
 
Lucy, there was still twinge in his chest when he thought of her. The kind you get when you think of your first love. He figured she’d always have that claim to his heart, both of them actually, for different reasons.
 

The firsts of his life.

But with all the up and downs of his romantic life, it could be argued that architecture was his first true love. It continued to be the place he found solace and fulfillment. When he found the one, the real one, he figured that would only enhance his already full life. But he couldn’t help but feel the absence of it, the love only a woman could give.